


Bushido

by TempestRising



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Child Abuse, Everyone is protective of Kageyama, Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio Friendship, Implied Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Kageyama Tobio is Bad at Feelings, Kageyama Tobio-centric, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Protective Hinata Shouyou, Protective Sawamura Daichi, Team Parents Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, because
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-13 10:41:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16016237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempestRising/pseuds/TempestRising
Summary: Daichi realizes that Kageyama is afraid of going home.Kageyama insists it's correction. A reminder. Punishment. Not abuse. But when their genius setter comes to school after the Tokyo finals with his hands flayed with belt marks, the team decides to help the one player who could never bring himself to ask for help.Or: Kageyama's being hurt at home. He's the only one who thinks that's okay.





	1. Chapter 1

_"...and if the lord abuses the servant, it is no longer a situation of service; it becomes the situation of a victim. It is never acceptable for a samurai to be a victim. It is never acceptable to allow a lord to abuse you or rob you of your dignity. In such a situation, it is acceptable to walk away.”_

_**-Bushido: the way of the warrior** _

.***.

Daichi stopped, turning away from Suga’s excitable recap (laced with dire warnings about Daichi’s injury, Suga’s eyes filling with worry every time Daichi moved his head to expose the scraped raw injury on his cheek).

“What is it?” Suga turned with him, squinting at the figure at the bus stop. The figure that was waving the bus away, standing in the loose ray of light. “Is that…?”

“I’ll take care of it.” Daichi was already doubling back towards the school.

“I should,” Suga protested. “You need to go to bed. Are you sure you’re not dizzy? No double vision? I’ll talk Kageyama-kun down off whatever ledge he’s on. Bed. Now.”

Daichi rolled his eyes. The whole trip back from Tokyo had his teammates coming up to him at regular intervals, making sure he didn’t doze off and slip into a coma. He’d only just convinced Tanaka to go home, and only after the second year had apologized again and again and again… “This is the captain’s duty. You need sleep, too, Suga. Especially if something’s wrong with our genius setter.”

Sugawara looked skeptical, but he continued walking forward while Daichi walked back. When he was within shouting distance Daichi made sure to pitch his voice exactly as he did on the court. Half order, half warning. “Kageyama-kun!”

The setter jumped at the sound of his name, his grip tightening on the volleyball bag slung over his shoulder. His expression, though, was as unreadable as ever as he turned to face Daichi. “Captain?”

“I think you might have missed your bus.” Daichi jerked his chin at the bus lights fading in the distance. “You’ve had an exhausting day. You should get home.”

Kageyama seemed to burrow into himself. He was like a box, his hinges occasionally open and willing—usually around Hinata, who could cajole the best out of him—but now, tonight, he was locking firmly closed. “I was thinking about going…”

He trailed off in a mumble. Daichi leaned forward. “You were thinking about going where?”

“To the gym. To practice.” Kageyama was looking at the ground, his street shoe scuffing a mark in the pavement.

Daichi blinked. “Alone? Is our early wake up not enough for you?” He laughed, shaking his head. “Go home. Be the king somewhere else for once.”

Kageyama stiffened at the old nickname, and Daichi felt his face softening. As intimidating at the setter tried to be, he was only fifteen. A gangly child just pulled up the ranks from middle school, who had played an impressive, exhausting series against strong opponents. Daichi raised his hand to put on Kageyama’s shoulder and saw the younger boy shudder at the contact.

They were all so tired. Daichi retracted his hand. “Why do you want to go back to the gym?”

“To practice.” Still, Kageyama stared at the ground.

Daichi tilted his head, thinking about it. They were all such fixtures on the court that he’d never even thought about logging hours, and when he did it was in cases like Tsuki, who always seemed to be absent when open practice rolled around. But now that he thought about it, Kageyama’s constant presence—before school, on the weekends, late nights—seemed more than dedicated. It seemed deliberate. He changed the question. “Why don’t you want to go home?”

Kageyama’s eyes darted to find Diachi’s. Just for a moment, but it was enough. Apprehension. Fear. Shame.

The street was quiet. Daichi knew that prying answers out of Kageyama was difficult—engaging him in conversation took a mixture of good-natured ribbing and downright threats—but he felt an instinct twist in his gut, a brotherly pull he felt towards all of his team, but perhaps especially for the youngest players. He needed this answer.

“I can…”Kageyama raised his head in the direction of the bus. “I can try…”

“Why don’t you want to go home?” Daichi repeated, more firmly this time.

The setter took a deep breath, then finally raised his face. Met Daichi head-on. They were of a height, though Kageyama was slimmer. “If you’ll just let me sleep in the gym.”

“Kageyama-kun…”

“I’ll handle it,” Kageyama said, plaintively. “After tomorrow’s match. You don’t have to worry, Captain, if you’ll let me sleep in the gym tonight.”

Daichi asked the obvious question: “And if I don’t let you sleep in the gym?”

It was a slow crumble, Kageyama’s burst of energy collapsing inwards. A sag. He looked again down the long, dark road, and Daichi was sure they would stand there all night, the injured captain and his royal setter, stay there until morning, the entire problem negated.

And then Kageyama spoke. “I am not good at school.” His eyes were red-rimmed when he lifted them again, but his voice was strong. He wasn’t looking Daichi in the eye, but rather staring at a point over the captain’s shoulder, gaze flicking between phantom images only he could see. “My family. My father.” He took a deep breath. “My father requires…demands…good marks. That I am spending my time playing a game rather than studying…displeases him.”

His tone was laced with implication and understatement, and Daichi felt suddenly as if he was standing in quicksand, about to be pulled into a world he wasn’t welcome to and didn’t quite understand. “But,” he grasps, “this isn’t a game. We’re in the quarter finals. Your talent on the court more than makes up for your academics, surely.”

“I was given other chances,” Kageyama says. His hand slipped from its death grip on his bag strap. He was worrying his hands in front of him, messaging the palms at a frantic pace. “I didn’t expect we’d win. I didn’t think this would be an issue.”

It was like trying to get answers from a door knob. “Kageyama-kun…”

Kageyama lifted his chin. “I cannot go home tonight. Captain. Senpai. Please. Please. I won’t be able to play tomorrow. I need to play. I’m nothing without…” he blows out a breath. Performs a half-bow, bag slipping down one shoulder. “Please, Senpai. Let me sleep in the gym.”

“Why wouldn’t you be able to play tomorrow?” Daichi almost forgot to keep his voice down, his head spinning. Kageyama, impenetrable, cool Kageyama, king of the court, most reliable of the first years. Kageyama looked like he was nearly in tears, and that, more than anything else, made something twist under Daichi’s ribs, a cold stone of dread. “What would happen if I walked you home?”

It might be the stress and exhaustion of the day, but Kageyama was shaking, minute tremors, even as he held the bow. He was muttering, too. A continuous plea. “I’ll go home tomorrow, after we win. We’ll have a break between games. I’ll have time. I’ll go home tomorrow.”

Maybe he should have let Suga deal with this. Maybe he did have a concussion. Watching Kageyama made Daichi feel dizzy and sick, and maybe that led to his split-second decision. “I can’t let you sleep in the gym,” Daichi said. Kageyama was needed for every play tomorrow. He could not be at his peak after sleeping on the hard floor of the gym.

Kageyama’s bow drooped into a slump of defeat. “Captain…” he said, his tone near to begging.

Daichi swallowed. “But I will need our genius setter tomorrow. In peak condition, mind you.” Daichi hoisted a smile to his face, although he felt little like smiling. In the dim light of the street lamp Kageyama, for all his height and ability, looked like a child. Cold. Vulnerable. Had he always been so young? “Which is why you’ll be coming home with me.”

This option had obviously never occurred to Kageyama, who blushed deeply. “No, Senpai, you don’t have to…”

But Daichi was already starting to walk in the direction of home. Kageyama loped to keep up with him. “You’re injured!” The young setter protested. “You need time to heal.”

“We’re sleeping. Not braiding each other’s hair.”

“Because you have so much to braid,” Kageyama bit out, following a pace behind. Daichi breathed a little easier. This prickly, touchy Kageyama he could understand.

His house, as he suspected, was not quite dark when they came up to it. He slipped off his shoes, putting them near his gym bag, which he also left near the front door. Kageyama hastened to the do the same, wincing when he dropped one shoe with a loud thump. “Sorry,” he murmured, straightening it, cringing at his own clumsiness.

“Daichi?” Mother called from the kitchen.

Kageyama’s head snapped up but Daichi left him behind for a moment to greet his mother. “I told you not to wait for me. We practiced after the matches.”

“You won? Oh! You’re hurt!” Her palm touched his cheek, lightly.

“I’m fine. A collision. I sat out a set.”

“Concussion?”

“No, mother, they checked. Did you make dumplings?” There was a small feast on the table, despite the late hour. Water and a pitcher of milk, dumplings and steamed vegetables.

His mother, a short woman, looked over Daichi’s shoulder. “Who’s this? I thought you were bringing Suga home.”

“I’ve gotten rid of him and replaced him with Kageyama-kun, our setter.” Daichi tried to think of an explanation for a guest at the late hour, without any notice. “His home is far away, and because of our early call tomorrow…”

“Oh! Of course, you’re very welcome to stay, dear. Call me mother.” Daichi had to stifle a giggle as his mother hugged Kageyama tightly. The first year accepted the embrace with the grace of a dead tree. “Is this the same setter who replaced Suga?”

“I didn’t…” Kageyama stammered, ears reddening.

Mother snapped her fingers. “The king! I knew I recognized you.”

There it was again. That shuttered, locked expression.

Daichi touched his mother’s shoulder. “Are these dumplings for us?”

“I looked it up. Do you know how many calories a full game of volleyball burns? And you’ve played two!”

Kageyama’s gaze was darting around the kitchen, and as Daichi began to settle himself at the table the setter went over to the sink. At first Daichi thought it was to wash his hands, but Kageyama picked up a plate and began methodically scrubbing it clean.

It was so bewildering that Daichi was speechless, and not just because of the half dumpling in his mouth. It was his mother who shooed Kageyama back to the table, smacking him good-naturedly on the arm. The pestering worked a charm, and Kageyama folded dutifully at the table, staring at the food.

“Eat as much as you want,” Daichi said, pouring them both drinks and sliding over a pair of chopsticks. “Seriously.”

Kageyama swallowed. “Your mother didn’t know I was coming,” he said, slowly. “This food is for you.”

“And Sugawara,” Daichi reminded gently. “And it’s too much. I swear Mother trained by feeding soldiers. Eat, and then we’ll sleep. Did you shower at the gym?”

Kageyama nodded. He glanced at Daichi again, then at his mother, murmuring a thanks for the food before eating one dumpling, whole. Then another.

Minutes later, the stack of food was greatly reduced and Daichi felt like he might sleep at the table. It had been a surreal day. He remembered it in flashes. The Great King. Tanaka coming out of nowhere. The ball teetering over the net. Yamaguchi serving. Hinata’s quick. Winning. Winning.

He got up and waved Kageyama to keep eating. “I’ll find the extra blanket. It might take a minute. You can bring any extras into the bedroom. We’ll eat them, I’m sure.”

Kageyama nodded, lips pursed. He had been quiet since being shooed away from the dishes, hair hanging in front of his eyes, but they were deep with purple bruises, too. They were all exhausted. Daichi tried not to think of Hinata, biking over the mountain after the matches, after the practice. Perhaps they should have created a system where those who lived close to the school housed those who lived further away, especially on nights like this that were so short, call so early, on the busses at dawn…

He found the blanket and rolled it out on the other side of his room. He had to kick several volleyballs out of the way. They made him feel safe.

He went back out to tell Kageyama his bed was prepared and saw, to his surprise, that Father was awake and blocking the hallway.

Daichi was about to say something when he heard Kageyama’s voice…what must be Kageyama’s voice. A quiet thread of his usual bark. “I’m not—I—Daichi said I could take the extras to bed. I apologize, sir.”

Daichi’s father’s voice was still fuzzy from sleep. “Come now, what’s two dumplings? Anyway, you’re supposed to be giving me information. You won, huh? Who did you play? I wish I could have seen it, but I couldn’t justify the day off. Perhaps the tournament will be more convenient for us parents.”

His father took a step forward, eager for information, and Kageyama back peddled so quickly he rammed his hip into the kitchen counter. Hard. He barely winced. “Um. If we win…”

“If we win, we’ll need to go to bed,” Daichi said, raising his voice. He didn’t know why Kageyama was so skittish around his family, but the boy’s awkwardness brought out every protective instinct in Daichi’s bones. “I apologize for waking you, Father.”

He relayed the important bits of the matches and let his father probe his cheek. It really looked worse than it was. Only a dull throbbing. The memory of pain.

While he talked, Kageyama edged down the hallway. It was only when they were in the room and Daichi was pulling the door closed that he realized that the setter had left the dumplings behind.

Another one of those odd little red flags to join the collection, but Daichi wasn’t sure what all the markers added up to. Or, he had several theories, each more unsavory than the last. Instead of gently prying out more information, as Suga could have done, or bullying and berating it out, as Hinata could accomplish, Daichi just pointed to Kageyama’s bed and told him to go to sleep.

After going through his usual nightly routine, Daichi laid down on his own mattress. He could sense Kageyama, a ramrod straight presence, but sleep called so enticingly. There were unanswered texts on his phone from about half the girls in his class, texts from the other team captains, texts from Suga and Asahi. They were two games into the tournament. There were good players behind them. It had been a good day, and he spiraled down on these thoughts into…

“If I don’t bring home good grades,” Kageyama said, quietly. To the darkness. “If I don’t do well on tests…I’m assigned extra chores. Weeding. Cleaning. Cooking.” A shrug to the quiet room. “Chores.”

Of the things Daichi had been envisioning, chores had not been one of them.

Kageyama’s voice was still quiet. Steady. “But if I don’t finish the chores, there are other consequences. My father’s preferred method is belting my hands. Five times, for every chore missed.”

Daichi’s breath caught.

“I obviously deserve consequences. There are ways to finish the chores, even with practice. But I can never…it feels like I am always behind. And I don’t want a consequence before a match. And we’ve had so many matches. So I avoid going home because.” Daichi could hear Kageyama swallow. “Because I need my hands. I can never even get to the chores, because first I get a consequence and I need my hands to do the chores. It’s like.” A cough. Perhaps covering something else. “It’s like I’m not supposed to be able to do it.”

It was overwhelming, to hear so much from Kageyama at once. To be so horrified by it.

Kageyama misinterpreted Daichi’s silence and rushed to fill it. “I will catch up. With the chores and the consequences. If we win tomorrow—when we win tomorrow—there’s still weeks before the final. I just knew I wouldn’t be able to play…”

“He belts you?” Daichi finally managed to say.

“Only my hands,” Kageyama confirmed.

“Only your—you’re a setter!”

“I’ve missed so many chores, preparing for the game,” Kageyama said. Mostly to himself. “I wouldn’t be able to play tomorrow. I’d be nothing. No help to anyone. Useless.”

It sounds like he’s repeating someone else’s words.

“Kageyama…” Daichi began.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” Kageyama murmured. “I feel I can face it all after tomorrow.”

He knew that the window for information was closing but Daichi grasped for more. “What about your mother?” He cannot picture it, his father taking a thread to Daichi’s hands, let alone a belt. Not in this reality. His mother would not stand for it.

Kageyama was quiet for so long Daichi was sure he wasn’t going to answer. And then, a whisper. “I don’t think she likes me very much.”

The quiet admission was like a smack in the face, and Daichi was at a loss. His family was affectionate, and though he knew that occasionally there was a lack of affection, from absent parents, from working parents, he’d never encountered this from anyone he’d ever known. “I’m sure that’s not true,” Daichi said as warmly as he could manage.

He heard Kageyama shift, heard the soft thump of a volleyball being thrown into the air, a rhythmic tossing. It dropped neatly, precisely, next to Daichi’s head. “Thank you for letting me stay,” Kageyama said again. It felt final. Almost immediately, Daichi could hear the younger boy’s breathing even out.

He was just a kid, trying to find someplace safe to sleep.

Even though Daichi was bone-tired, he stayed awake for a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama misses practice after the Tokyo tournament, so naturally the rest of the team goes looking for him.

_“The essence of warrior traits are demonstrated by : integrity with self, and honesty with others”_

**Bushido: the way of the warrior**

.***.

Daichi woke the next morning to his alarm beeping an hour before the bus was set to leave for Tokyo. Kageyama’s bed was rolled up, a note propped on top, saying thank you, saying that he will see Daichi on the bus.

“What happened to your friend?” Daichi’s father asked over a light breakfast, rice and juice, salted fish. The sun wasn’t yet up, and though Daichi felt rested he also felt sore. His cheek throbbed where he’d slept on it.

Daichi hesitated. “I think Kageyama wanted to get some sets in before the team leaves.”

His father put down his chopsticks, his paper. Looked suddenly serious. “I knew a Kageyama when I worked at the factory. A foreman. Good at his job, but…” Daichi’s father would sooner cut out his own tongue than bad mouth a fellow employee. “You can always tell something about a man by looking at how he treats the men under him. He treated his crew like cattle. Never seemed like the fatherly type to me.” His father shrugged, lifting the newspaper delicately. “But that was years ago.”

Years ago. Daichi’s father had moved on from the factory, and perhaps Kageyama’s father had, too, but it seemed he had never stopped expecting too much from those with less power than him. Treating them as less than human. Animals in need of…how had Kageyama put it? Consequences?

But Daichi couldn’t dwell on the problem any more. They were playing the Great Eagle today. On a team stronger and taller than they. They were the underdogs by quite a margin, and Daichi knew his entire concentration needed to be on the game. He just hoped Kageyama could focus, too.

When Daichi got to the school, he caught Kageyama’s eye as the younger boy was talking to Hinata, excitable as ever despite the early hour. Kageyama nodded in acknowledgement but shook his head when Daichi moved to get closer. Daichi understood. They both needed to be a zone, last night in the past. An abnormality.

A slim hand on his shoulder. “So what happened last night, Captain? Kageyama told Hinata he stayed at your house. It’s enough to make a man jealous!” Suga slapped his back good-naturedly, and Coach showed up a moment later, Sensei in tow, and the day was truly starting, a buzz to the air. Right now, volleyball was the important thing, the only important thing.

Like Kageyama had said. Everything else could wait until this evening.

They went to Tokyo.

And they won again.

.

The bus ride back home was one of the most surreal experiences of Daichi’s life. Asahi thumping him on the back, yelling about getting to play one more game. The whole team buzzing about Tsuki’s uncanny ability to predict when to block. Falling asleep on Suga’s shoulder, asleep for nearly an hour. It’s alright, his friend said. You’re so tired. Settling back into the seat and listening to Coach and Sensei planning to turn the weeks before the next match into an intensive boot camp. Listening to Kageyama and Hinata in the seat in front of him.

“What do you mean you’re going away?” Hinata asked, all annoyance.

“I’m not going away. You never listen,” Kageyama grumped. “I need some time at home. I’ve neglected my studies. You have, too.”

“Who has time to study? We’re in a tournament! We’re winning!”

“Well, I have to!” Kageyama hissed. “That’s what I’m saying. Practice with Suga-san. Teach him how to set quicker, just for you.”

“He doesn’t do it right. Tiredyama!” Hinata paused, then accused: “Are you skipping because you’re tired? We don’t have to go as late, I promise! I need you!”

“I’m not skipping. I want to practice, but I can’t. And don’t you want to learn to play without me?” Kageyama lowered his voice, plaintive, placating. “You got better, during training, when we were apart. I did too. Go practice with Suga-san. That could be a weapon, too.”

“And you’ll be taking a vacation,” Hinata huffed.

Kageyama didn’t say anything after that.

After the post-game notes at the gym, after an hour of practice to get the rest of the nerves out, after Coach promised the second years food if they stopped screaming so much and after Daichi asked Hinata several times if he was good to get back over the mountain on his bike (he was. The kid’s stamina might be his best weapon). After Suga and Asahi went over to talk to some of the girls’ volleyball team and after Sensei had commended Daichi on his captain-ing, Daichi found Kageyama standing at the bus stop again.

Daichi slowed. He was going to catch up with Suga and Asahi, thank Michimiya for her victory charm, but Kageyama was hunched over on himself at the bus stop, looking down the street with something like hopeless resignation written all over his face.

“Kageyama-kun, you play a good game,” Daichi said, slowing next to the bus stop. Asahi seemed like he was in the middle of recounting a story. The girls would wait, surely.

Kageyama startled, as if he hadn’t noticed Daichi appear. “I need to work on my stamina,” he muttered. “The rest of the matches are five sets each.”

“So you’ll work on it,” Daichi waved the protest away. “Though I heard you tell Hinata not to expect you in practice for a few days…” he let his voice trail off suggestively.

Kageyama’s head snapped up. “I’m not skipping!” He bit out fiercely. Then he bowed his head in instant submission. “I mean—Captain, you know why I have to…”

“I know. I’m not angry.” That was a lie. Daichi felt himself boiling over with rage every time he thought of a father who could belt his own son’s hands—hands that had touched the ball on just about every play these last two days—the genius setter’s greatest asset, flayed out of a misguided need to correct. “But I would like to know how you are getting along.” He dug into his pocket until he found the scrap of paper he’d written his phone number on, pushing it into Kageyama’s hand.

Kageyama looked like he wanted to say something, but the bus was pulling up and his response was lost in the screeching of the breaks. His fist closed around the piece of paper, though, as he stepped onto the bus. “Good night, Captain,” the first-year said.

Daichi just nodded, wondering why good night sounded so much like good bye.

.

Halfway into afternoon practice the next day Hinata was nearly vibrating out of his skin. “What’s the point of practicing without Kageyama? He’ll always be in the game.”

“Not always. You saw what happened at the last match, Hinata. What if he gets tired?” Suga asked, a little harsher than he would have if Hinata hadn’t been complaining for the last hour. Suga had withstood being replaced by a first year with grace, but Daichi knew his friend was nearing a breaking point.

“But it’s not the same,” Hinata whined. They were just wrapping up practice in the gym, because the girls’ basketball team needed it for their own tournament, though Tanaka had mentioned maybe heading down to the beach for some two-on-two on the sand.

Suga put his hands on his hips. “Thanks a lot!”

“You just miss your boyfriend,” Tanaka teased.

Hinata gasped, affronted. “Kageyama is not my boyfriend! Tanaka-sempai! How could you say that?”

“You’re moping like a lovesick school girl.” Tanaka rolled his eyes. “Look, Kageyama’s house is on the way to the beach. We can see if he’s free!”

Daichi had been nodding along to the whole beach idea, but now he paused mid-nod. “Shouldn’t we let Kageyama rest today? In fact—Coach,” he appealed, “shouldn’t we all be resting?”

Coach shrugged. He was talking to the rest of the community team about what they’d seen from the stands. “You need to work on your stamina. The more you play the better you’ll get.”

Daichi knew it was true, and though he’d been trying to think of a way to drop by Kageyama’s house casually—the first year hadn’t texted him, hadn’t even acknowledged the phone number at all—he knew in his heart that Kageyama would not want the whole team knowing about his home life.

But it was too late. Shimizu was already coming around with the cart for the balls while Yachi handed out their practice schedule for the next two weeks. Hinata was trying to convince Tsuki to teach him how he knew a block was coming. Tanaka and Nishanoya were hanging back at the court, trying to wheedle Shimizu into coming to the beach.

There was nothing for it. To try to dissuade the team would draw more attention than simply stopping by Kageyama’s house.

Hinata led the way. Said he’d been there before, sometimes walking his bike to talk with Kageyama on the nights their practices ended after the bus stopped running. The houses on this side of the mountain, near the sea, were flat with long gardens, and Daichi felt a wave of relief to see a figure crouching among the tomatoes. Kageyama stood up when Hinata shouted. Daichi was watching carefully and noticed how his body buckled at the movement, a spasm forward and back.

Pain.

Hinata, who had been idly tossing a volleyball to himself since they left the school, spiked it over to Kageyama who controlled the arc out of reflex, setting it towards Nishanoya before retracting his hands, sticking them under his armpits.

His face flashed from agony to annoyance in a single second. “What are you guys doing here? I thought there was practice.”

“We’re going to the beach, Tiredyama!” Hinata crouched at the plot Kageyama had been working on, plucking a small tomato and popping it in his mouth. “Come set for me!”

“Stop calling me that,” Kageyama rolled his eyes. “I told you already. I have to work at the house today.”

Tanaka tilted his head, perplexed. “Can’t it wait? Do it tonight!”

“Guys,” Daichi began.

“It’s already waited,” Kageyama explained. “Really, I shouldn’t have put it off—”

“Just come to the beach,” Asahi said, slapping Kageyama on the back. This time the pain was masked quicker, as if Kageyama had seen them coming and braced himself. “Life is short and chores are long.”

“Guys, if Kageyama can’t come he can’t come,” Daichi said in a way he hoped was diplomatic.

“I feel like the king has abandoned his people again,” Tsuki murmured to Yamaguchi, who shrugged. They started walking back over the street, most of the team following. Turning their backs on Kageyama.

Daichi watched Kageyama, who had obviously heard what Tsuki had said. The younger boy was looking down at the half-weeded garden, picking at the bottom of his gardening gloves.

“Beach day! Beach day! Beach day!” Hinata chanted, grabbing one of Kageyama’s hands.

Kageyama tried to pull his hands away and Hinata latched onto the glove and tugged.

.

Some may think it was silly to fall in love with a sport.

Volleyball took everything. Time, sleep, energy. It took Kageyama’s focus until the whole world was the pinpoint of the ball as it flew over the net. It took his concentration away from school, from chores. It demanded his attention, his reflexes. It was a game of fleeting touches, of trying to win by staying alive. Winning by not losing. As long as the ball didn’t touch the ground, you could play on.

Kageyama felt like every ball he’d had up in the air was tumbling down around his ears. He wasn’t fast enough. He wasn’t good enough.

He was nothing.

Volleyball demanded that he woke up early to run over the mountain. That he stayed up late diving into the ground. That he set the ball again and again and again, learning where to put the ball for Hinata, for Asahi, for Tanaka, for Tsuki ‘Noya Daichi Suga. Where to put the ball so that someone else could go up and score.

Volleyball demanded that he kept the ball off the ground so that someone else could fly.

He loved the sport for its simplicity. If he worked hard enough, long enough, sweated and swore his soul, he would see results. It was a game of work and blood, but also of transcendence. Triumph. It turned kids from the concrete into super humans. It turned boys into angels.

On the court, the ball went in slow motion. It didn’t move like that for everyone, and it didn’t move like that for Kageyama all the time. But when he was in the thick of the game, when it looked like all hope was lost, the ball would move slowly, like through water, and Kageyama could predict things.

He was a genius because he was born with advantages. He was a genius because he wanted it more than anyone else. Because he practiced. Because volleyball demanded everything and Kageyama gave everything willingly. He played every game as if it was his last.

Volleyball had rules. A ball was in or out. On the court or in the air. A player was on the bench or they were playing the game. It was a game of yes and no.

Home had rules, too. Do well in school or there will be consequences. It was just that the rules kept changing, and Kageyama didn’t have the stamina to keep up with a game he didn’t understand. Yes, he almost always did poorly in school, especially in English and literature, but sometimes the chores he was assigned as a consequence needed to be done in an hour, or a day. Sometimes it was a whole week before Kageyama would come home late after practice drenched in sweat to see his father sitting at the kitchen table, belt in hand.

Sometimes he thought if he just knew when something was coming, he could prepare better. The thwack of the belt wouldn’t feel so final against his palm. He wouldn’t shake.

“You know what you did to end up here, Tobio?” his father would ask. He was never angry when he doled out consequences, and he never hit Kageyama more than he said he would. Fifteen strokes always ended at fifteen.

Kageyama would nod. He had never been able to tell his father that he hates the way his first name sounds in his father’s mouth. Derisive. The name of a pet, or a child.

“If you know why you’re here…” The belt landed again. Across the pads of his fingers, where he hit the ball a hundred times a day. Kageyama closed his eyes. Forced himself not to pull away. It was worse if you tried to run. “Take it like a man. Stay still.”

He didn’t have to count out loud, but he counted anyway, silently. Promising himself it would never get to this point again. Wondering how he was going to hide his hands in a game where hands were the only things that mattered.

Volleyball demanded many things of him. One of those things was silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone finds out and they tell an adult. Because they are still children. And communication is good.

_"Beneath the instinct to fight there lurks a diviner instinct to love."_

**Bushido: the way of the warrior**

.***.

Like on the court, he could see it happening in slow motion. Hinata pulling on his gardening glove. The rip of newly healed skin as the abrasive mitten was pulled off. And then. The team gathered around, smirking, waiting for him to go with them to the beach even though he’d asked for one day, just one to try to get ahead. To avoid pain. To sleep.

But volleyball took everything. Every day. All his secrets.

He closed his eyes, prepared for the jeers. The horror.

He wasn’t prepared for the silence.

Hinata touched his hand, and Kageyama opened his eyes. Hinata’s head tilted as he bent over Kageyama’s fingers. Protecting him from view. The rest of the team still squirming at the edge of the garden. Yamaguchi and Ennochita passing the ball over the sidewalk. Tanaka and Nishanoya eyeing a girl from down the street who was out with her dog.

Hinata’s eyes were like twin fires as he looked from Kageyama’s hand to his face. And he must have read something there. Shame. Embarrassment. Because he nodded, as if to himself, and held Kageyama’s hand in both of his. So, so gently.

Daichi was suddenly there, too, and Suga, and Asahi. The third years flanking him, protective and alert as watchdogs.

Asahi picked up the ball from the tomatoes and tossed it to Tsuki. “You guys go to the beach. We’ll catch up!”

“What about Kageyama-kun?” Nishanoya asked, messing up his hair in a way that was meant to attract the girl’s attention and just made her giggle from across the street.

“We’ll all catch up,” Asahi promised. “And remember we’re supposed to be working on stamina!”

Tanaka saluted in acknowledgement, arranging the rest of the team into two groups. They’d run to the beach, even without the third years to lead them. But the second years did things differently. To them, it was only worth running if it could be a game.

The two teams lined up on opposite sides of the street. Waited for the signal. Took off explosively, calling out good-byes.

Volleyball made even friendship into something that could be won or lost.

In the garden outside of Kageyama’s house, Daichi turned to the first-year. His hair plastered to his forehead, dripping with sweat. Hand clutching spasmatically around the glove, as if he still thought he could hide from them. “So. What happened?”

The captain took Kageyama’s wrist. The hand was criss-crossed with welts, some bleeding sluggishly. The lines of impact were mostly concentrated on the palm, but some went from wrist to fingertip. There were so many marks that they hardly looked like hands anymore. Pieces of raw meat.

Kageyama, face red with embarrassment, turned around, hugging his exposed hand to his chest.

“What happened?” Hinata echoed.

“It looks like someone ran over your hand, Kageyama-kun,” Suga said softly.

“No.” Asahi’s eyes flashed. “It looks like someone hit you.”

Hinata gaped up at Asahi, then turned to Kageyama. “Was it Seijoh?”

That actually made the setter smile, a twitch of the lips. But he said nothing. Just watched as Daichi ran his fingers gently across the raised welts.

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

Kageyama lifted his head up suddenly, meeting Daichi’s eyes. His lips were pursed in a thin line, but his eyes were wet.

The team all turned to Daichi, one by one. Silence reigned again, until Suga broke it. “Did you know about this, Daichi?”

He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t want to embarrass Kageyama further, put all his secrets out to bear, but he couldn’t let the misinformation gather steam. Kageyama swallowed and nodded. Once.

Daichi lowered his voice. He didn’t know if there was someone in the house. “It wasn’t a rival team. It was Kageyama-kun’s father.”

If he’d thought that was all he needed to say to explain things, he was mistaken. Confused faces turned in his direction.

“But…” Hinata tilted his head, surprised. “We won!”

“Why would he hit your hands?” Asahi mused.

“You could have permanent damage,” Suga whispered.

Kageyama was shaking under all the attention. Slowly, he stripped the glove off his other hand, revealing near-identical injuries there. He winced when he tried to flex his fingers.

Daichi knew better than to stick his nose into the business of other families. He knew some households that banned television, or sweets, or video games. He knew some of his friends who had to get jobs to pay rent once they were old enough to contribute. He had many, many friends whose parents didn’t seem to know what they were doing at all.

But he’d never seen anything like this, a father who could cut welts like this into a son’s hands. A son who would stay still and take it, having been told this is only what he deserved.

The front door of the house opened, and Daichi’s stomach turned at the naked fear on Kageyama’s face. The man who stood in the doorway had obviously once been strong, perhaps even athletic, with a sharper, more defined look to him than Tobio Kageyama.

“Oh-ho son. Is it visiting hours already?”

“No, father. They were just on their way to the beach and stopped by. They will be going now.” Kageyama threw them all a pleading look.

No one moved. Kageyama Senior braced himself against the front door. “I’m surprised you have so many people to stop by. Last I checked the King has no friends.”

Kageyama’s shoulders hunched. Hinata opened his mouth but Asahi squeezed the younger boy’s before he could get a word out. This wasn’t their fight. Not yet.

And they did not want to make life worse for their genius setter.

“I was easy on you this morning. But I will not be lenient forever. You have been neglecting your schooling for this volleyball club, and now your choices have caught up to you.”

“Yes, Father.”

“I have been patient so far. See that you do not test me.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Because the next step is removing you from this silly sport altogether.”

Hinata gaped up at the older man and, endearingly, moved so that he was standing in front of Kageyama. As if to say, if Kageyama Senior wanted to remove his son from the club, he would have to go through Hinata first.

“If you can’t hit the ball for these people,” Kageyama Senior said, voice menacingly low, “I don’t think they’d ever stop by again. Would they?” The man turned back towards the house. “After all, a King is only worthwhile if he’s useful.”

The door slammed. Hinata reached back and touched Kageyama’s elbow. They all stared at Kageyama, whose eyes were shut tight. He was vibrating, though with pain or fury Daichi didn’t know.

“Kageyama…” Daichi began. He wanted to apologize but didn’t know to start. Suspected that, even if the boy didn’t want them around now, he might need them around later.

Flashing dark eyes raised to meet his. “Please leave.” Kageyama’s hands twitched as if to make fists but the motion stopped in a spasm of pain. He either couldn’t clench his hands because of the pain or because of some traumatic damage. Both options made Daichi feel like murdering someone.

“You’ll make it worse,” Kageyama implored.

That made several pairs of eyes snap to Daichi. The thought of drawing more trouble towards Kageyama was abhorrent, but so was the thought of leaving, going to the beach as if they’d never seen the cuts crisscrossing the palms of their young setter. “Kageyama-kun,” Daichi began gently. “I thought I’d let you continue down whatever path you thought best as long as it was working. But this is not working.”

“I’m trying,” Kageyama gritted out.

A shadow came onto the porch, a lone standing figure. So Kageyama Senior had never moved. He had watched them all huddle around their setter, a team getting into formation as easily as they did on the volleyball court. “Tobio!”

Kageyama didn’t flinch. He set his shoulders and dropped the gloves he had been wearing into a bucket. “I have to go.”

“You’re still on the team,” Daichi said, answering a question Kageyama hadn’t asked. “You’re still our setter.”

“We’ll be back,” Asahi promised.

“We’ll wait for you at school tomorrow,” Suga said.

Hinata held loosely onto one of Kageyama’s wrists. “Be okay,” he said, and then stood on his tip-toes to give Kageyama a brief, fierce hug.

They all expected Hinata to be pushed away, but Kageyama just closed his eyes, holding on tight.

It occurred to Daichi again that they were all children, playing a game and pretending it was important, and in several years a few of them would be famous and more of them would be here, working the same jobs as their fathers.

Two boys stood in front of Daichi, and in a moment of stunning clarity the captain knew: if nothing changed, one of the boys would be something amazing.

And the other wouldn’t be here at all.

.

They left, because they didn’t want to make things worse. When they were out of sight of the house, Asahi ran off to find the rest of their team, huddled on the beach, waiting.

Suga leaned listlessly against Daichi.

Hinata threw up in a neighbor’s bushes.

.

Daichi thought about saying something. He knew that Kageyama would be mortified if someone else found out about the scabs forming on his palms. He knew that this was the kind of information that could break a team. Could break a family. He knew that this was the kind of abuse usually suffered in silence, and that some secrets burned once they were given light. He knew that a half-attempt at intervention could hurt Kageyama more.

He knew. He knew. He knew. He told Coach Ukai anyway.

.

The next morning, Kageyama, who had begged a key from the barely-opened front office, let himself into the gym an hour before school started. He was dressed for practice.

He knew that his hands would heal in a week at most, that the pain was superficial. He had touched each of his fingers, probed at the bones. No permanent damage. He had found an old pair of gloves. They would protect from some of the sting. They would protect him from some of the questions.

Daichi had said he was still their setter, which was the only reason he had been able to face his father the night before. I’m still on the team, he had thought as the blows rained down. I’m still on the team, he thought as his mother hovered in the doorway. I still have the team, he thought as he was sent to work on the floors, the bleach on the new cuts like knives, the pain radiating up his arms until he throbbed everywhere.

But his father was right. The team would only put up with him as long as he was their best setter. They had Suga. They had other boys who were better liked. He was quiet and self-centered. He was, according to his father, useless. Kageyama didn’t disagree. For the most part, he was useless. On the court though…

He dragged the volleyballs out onto the court, flexing his fingers. His eyes were wet.

When he looked into the gym for the first time, he realized he was not alone.

“Coach Ukai,” Kageyama said. He held a volleyball. He always felt safer with a volleyball in hand.

The coach was sitting on a bench. He patted the spot next to him. “I think we need to talk.”

Kageyama didn’t put the ball down, but he did start talking before he sat. “I apologize for missing practice yesterday. It won’t happen—I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. I am focused on the final. I know I need to work on my stamina and aim. I’m sorry. I want to practice.”

“You’re allowed to practice, Kageyama-kun,” Coach said. He was speaking at a normal volume, nothing but understanding in his tone, but Kageyama didn’t look comforted. “You’re the best setter on the team. The best setter I’ve ever coached.”

“Oikawa—the Great King—”

“Is not one of my players. You’re a great setter. You’re becoming a great teammate. You do not need to worry about your standing on this team, not as long as it belongs to me, or Takeda Sempai, or Daichi. You will be welcome here.”

The tight fist that had squeezed around Kageyama’s heart began to loosen.

“But.”

Adrenaline was cold and tasted of pennies. With his father, there was always a “but”.

“Great players need to ask for help. I do not know if you’ve learned how to do that yet, Kageyama-kun. If one of us misses the ball, we have to trust that someone else will be able to save us.”

Kageyama thought about that. “That someone is usually Nishanoya.”

The Coach cracked a smile. He was looking at the player’s gloved hands. He’d seen this before. He had been around youth sports for a long time. He knew that to some people, especially men, the young and defenseless were an appealing target. He knew, too, the desperate love a child had for a parent.

“I think today that someone will have to be me.” The Coach held out his hand. Palm up. “Can I see?”

Kageyama, to his credit, did not pretend to misunderstand. But he did hold his hands closer to his chest. There was betrayal in his eyes. “Who told you?”

“Daichi. Suga. Hinata. They all came to me.” Separately. Hinata first, running back to the gym instead of going to the beach with the others. Suga, tentative but fierce. Daichi planting himself in front of the Coach, relaying everything in a matter-of-fact tone, ending with a question: how do we fix this?

“It looks worse than it is.”

“Can I see?”

“I was going to test, to see if I can still play. I think I can.”

“Kageyama-kun…”

The genius setter slowly stripped off his gloves. The hands underneath barely looked like hands. What the boys had seen yesterday was only half the punishment, and the bleach from the cleaner had stripped away skin and caused redness and swelling that would not go away. His palms were itchy and painful. There were deep black marks on some of the bones. His father had concentrated on the joints, where his fingers bent. The pads of his hands. 

Coach Ukai wondered how the boy was upright, let alone about to practice. These balls, when flying, stung, whipped, beat down. They hurt healthy hands. These were not healthy hands. When he touched the lashed fingers, he did so very, very gently. “Anywhere else?”

Kageyama thought briefly about lying. But he was tired, and it had occurred to him, as he put himself to bed last night, body bone sore and aching, that perhaps he didn’t have to live like this anymore. The pain had always been a part of life, but the gaping terror was new. He had only become afraid when there was something precious to lose.

His father had threatened to take volleyball away. That was his breaking point.

“My…backside.”

The coach’s eyes darted to Kageyama’s lower back. He reached, telegraphing his movements, for the hem of Kageyama’s shirt.

The boy flinched when skin touched skin.

The coach had been around youth sports for many years. He knew that the bruises may be more than bone deep. He didn’t know how to ask. If this echoing gym was the time or the place. But the question burned out of him with a fury. “Your father,” he began.

There was naked fear in the boy’s eyes. The boy who would run up a hill a dozen times a day and face a wall stronger and more powerful than he. Broken by the idea of a father.

“Did he ever—does he? Touch you?”

Kageyama’s face hidden under his dark fringe. Eyes confused. Then clear. He shook his head, definitively.

He said: “It’s just the belt.”

He said: “He doesn’t touch me.”

And then, in a different, broken tone. “He never touches me.”

The coach and the boy sat on the bench until school started. They spoke only in statements. The Coach could not bring himself to interrogate further.

The boy said: It’s only a few more years. It’s been fine. I’ve been fine. Let me play.

The coach said: You don’t have to live like this. Let us help you.

The boy said: I love my parents.

He meant it when he said it. He loved them despite the bruises, despite the state of his hands. He loved them with the desperate love of a child who can never get enough.

The coach thought about that. And then he said: okay. But you deserve better.

.

It was only a sport. Only thousands of hours of practice. Only a pinpoint of hope sailing through the air.

To many people, the idea of sweating and bleeding and risking everything for the momentary glimpses of the other side of that wall seemed ludicrous. Why work that hard for something that doesn’t last? For something that breaks your body? Demands your soul?

It was only a sport. But to some people it was something else, too. To people who have been a part of a team, it is a second chance at family.

For some people, it’s the first family they have ever known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my little sister, who had school cancelled because of the hurricane and is running out of fanfiction.

**Author's Note:**

> My sisters have both watched anime for years, but this is the first summer I sat through more than a couple episodes. And I kind of fell in love with this series. I don't read the manga though, so if Kageyama's family is actually the sweetest thing, I apologize. I just wanted to write the team taking care of each other.


End file.
